The Scoundrel in Her Bed

by Lorraine Heath

  “Are you pleased with the room?” her husband asked as he came up behind her and wound his arms around her.

  “Extremely so.” Spinning around within his embrace, she faced him, lifted her heels off the floor, and nipped at his chin. “Much more pleased to be your wife.”

  “Eight years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to bring you here. While I regret and oft resent the years we were apart, we’d have had a lot more challenges awaiting us. While we will still face challenges, I don’t think they’ll be as difficult to overcome.”

  “I’m letting go of the night we were to run away together, Finn. I’m not going to allow my father to haunt me. I’ll have naught to do with my mother any longer. I fear she is a toxic woman and I refuse to be poisoned by her. We have your family. We have my brother and his family. We have each other. That’s all that matters.”

  “Too many times to count I have thought of having you as my wife.” He pressed a kiss to one corner of her mouth, then to the other. “Lady Lavinia Trewlove.”

  “I don’t want to be addressed as ‘lady,’ Finn.” Except as the moniker she would use in articles and publications. “Mrs. Trewlove will suffice.”

  “But you are a lady, Vivi. You shouldn’t give up what is yours by birth and by right. Our children will benefit from your place in Society.”

  “Our place. I shan’t move about in circles that won’t include you. I shall set an example and perhaps there will come a time when even the royals will dare to marry commoners. When someone will be judged by neither the origins or the legitimacy of his birth.”

  “We’re probably a long way off from that happening, sweetheart.”

  “Perhaps not after they see how happy my commoner has made me.” Once more, rising up on her toes, she claimed his mouth as hers. Before the night was done, she intended to claim every aspect of him as hers. She would touch, mark, and brand. Never again would he be taken from her.

  He returned her kiss with fervor and a low groan as though he’d never before had the taste of her, could never get enough of tasting her. She savored the dark flavor of his mouth, noting the champagne they’d enjoyed during the wedding breakfast, the whisky with which they’d toasted all their plans finally coming to fruition. The brandy he’d shared with his brothers later as they wished him well before she and Finn had taken their leave.

  Tonight was about making a fresh start, of fulfilling a dream they’d both held for years. Of holding and cherishing, of loving and caring for, of building a life that suited them and brought them joy.

  With the greatest of care and small steps, he backed her up until her legs hit the bed. All the while she never released the hold she had on his shoulders. Broad shoulders she’d always admired.

  Sliding her hands beneath the lapels, she coaxed off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. It was as though she’d fired a gun to signal the start of a race, because their clothes came off hurriedly until they were both standing there with no cloth to separate their skin. When she would have moved to press the length of her body against his, he stalled her with a hand on her ribs, before lowering himself to his knees. He pressed his lips to her navel, then circled it with a series of kisses like a stone being thrown into a pond creating ever widening circles.

  “One of our children has grown here.” His tone was at once melancholy but awed. “Hopefully another will, and I’ll be able to watch you increasing. And you’ll have an easier time of it because you won’t be forced into hiding to prevent the world from seeing your shame.”

  “I was never ashamed, Finn. Perhaps a bit embarrassed at having gotten caught doing something I shouldn’t have. But I wanted the child, because it was yours. I never considered giving her away. I do worry that I might not be able to give you more children. The birth was hard.”

  “Vivi, if we have other children, it will be a blessing. And if not, we’ll still have hundreds to take care of. We will have children in our lives.” After unfolding his body, he cradled her face between his hands. “As I learned growing up, it is not blood that creates a family. It’s love. And I do love you. I have for a good bit of my adult life and that will never change. You are what makes me whole.”

  “Oh, Finn. I love you so much.”

  As his mouth reclaimed hers, he tumbled her down onto the bed, covering her body with his. She would never tire of the glorious sensations that fluttered through her when they were touching skin to skin, head to toe. She loved every aspect of his fine, honed body. The way his muscles bunched and flowed as he caressed her. The entire length of him. So warm and inviting. Moving beneath her fingertips with incredible purpose. To claim, to hold dear, to pleasure and treasure.

  She’d waited a lifetime to become his wife, to be taken fully and completely, with her conscience no longer whispering, This is a sin.

  She’d wanted him, always wanted him, in her bed, nestled between her thighs. No matter how right it felt, her conscience had never left her alone in order to feel no guilt. But now it was pure bliss. To have and to hold from this day forward.

  It was imperative he understand she was free at last to love him, to make love with him. No guilt nagged at her. All the little voices that had always questioned her were now silent.

  Because this man was finally hers—heart, body, and soul.

  With her hands gliding over his firm muscles, his taut buttocks, his broad shoulders, relishing the outlining of the dips, curves, and flat expanses. Claiming his body as hers.

  With words of love and endearments whispered into his ear, she claimed his heart.

  Opening herself up to him freely and enthusiastically, she claimed his soul.

  This time was different from the ones that had come before because this time was marking a beginning. The beginning of a new life together with no one to interfere. She was relaxed and joyous as she accepted her role in their lives: equal partner. No matter what challenges the future brought, they would face them together.

  She was more than ready for him when he slid inside her, filling her with the wonder of him. The gentleness he managed even though she could feel the tenseness in his muscles, his need to conquer and possess. “I love you,” she said on a sigh.

  He groaned low, his arms quivering as he held himself over her but buried his face against her neck. “I’ll never tire of hearing that, Vivi. Or saying it back. I love you more than life.”

  He withdrew, then thrust forward, once again filling her. Over and over, withdraw, thrust. And each time her muscles closed around him, needing, wanting, to keep him near, within her, where he belonged.

  Pressing on his shoulders, she urged him to roll off her. When he did, she immediately straddled him, positioned his cock, and slid down over it, not stopping until he was enveloped to the hilt, taking him deeper than he’d ever been before. His growl reverberated around them, filling her with such joy.

  While he kneaded her breasts, she began moving against him, up and down, up and down, never leaving him completely free of her. She watched his face, the increasing hunger in his eyes, as though this journey was what he wanted, what he feared. Losing sight of himself.

  But he’d never lose sight of himself as long as he could view himself through her eyes.

  Continuing to slide up and down the length of him, she lowered herself enough to press her mouth to his, to be greeted with such welcome that her heart soared. A lifetime spent with this man would never be enough. He moved his hands to her hips, cradling them, guiding her movements, his hips thrusting upward whenever hers dropped down. They were moving in tandem, each enhancing the other’s pleasure.

  The sensations began spiraling, taking her to the edge, their breathing growing harsher, their movements more frenzied. She teetered at the ledge, and when she jumped from it into the abyss of ecstasy, he followed, their cries mingling, their names on each other’s lips a benediction, an affirmation of their love.

  And a heart that had once been shattered found itself whole once again.

  Epilogue />
  Two Years Later

  While the laughter of children echoed from the back gardens, Lavinia walked down the front steps to greet their latest visitors as the carriage came to a halt. A footman opened the door and Angela scrambled out, followed by her mother.

  “Auntie Vivi,” her daughter cried as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her waist. Or tried to. Lavinia had been increasing for several months now.

  She skimmed her hands over the child’s head, taking care not to mess the two braids that fell on either side of her head and were secured together with a ribbon at the back. “Hello, sweetheart. Are you ready for your lesson?”

  Finn had begun teaching her how to ride.

  Releasing her hold, she bobbed her head enthusiastically.

  “Go on over to the paddock, then.” They had more than a dozen horses now. “Your uncle Finn is waiting for you.”

  As she scampered off, Lavinia greeted Angela’s mother by entwining their arms and following the lass they both loved. “Fanny.”

  “It looks like that little one is going to be coming any day now.”

  “Not for two more months.” She pressed her shoulder to her dearest friend’s. “He’s doing an awful lot of kicking though, so he might come early.”

  “What a wonderful thing that must be to feel.”

  “Perhaps he’ll get active while you’re here.” Fanny had been so joyful when she’d learned that Lavinia was with child. She shared the experience with her as much as possible.

  “Good progress being made on the new house,” Fanny said.

  Lavinia looked toward the framed structure that was being built within the shadow of the residence that had been erected for them two years earlier. It had the hundred bedchambers Finn had promised, as would the second. They’d hired an extensive staff to see after the children. “We’re overflowing, so we’ll move all the boys into it when we’re finished. We’ll have a residence for the boys and one for the girls. And over there”—she pointed to vacant land where a few horses grazed—“we’re going to build a school. The local children can attend as well.”

  “What a fine thing that will be. I read your latest article on the merits of not ostracizing women who give birth out of wedlock. You made some persuasive arguments.”

  “I have a publication coming out next month addressing the inadequate laws when it comes to children.” Then she would be speaking to Parliament. She was becoming known for her work as a social reformer.

  They came to a stop near Angela, who was standing on a fence railing, her hand slipping up beneath Sophie’s forelock as she petted the horse.

  Finn wandered over, his stride loose and relaxed. He never failed to take Lavinia’s breath. He belonged out here with the horses. They responded to his voice, his touch, as she’d never seen any other equine respond to a person. “How’s my favorite girl?” he asked, coming to stand beside Sophie and tweaking Angela’s nose.

  She giggled. “You always say that.”

  “Because it’s true.” He leaned down and winked. “Well, I have two favorite girls. You and Auntie Vivi.”

  Her green eyes widened. “What if her baby is a girl?”

  “Then I’ll have three favorite lasses, won’t I?”

  “And if it’s a boy?”

  “Two favorite lads.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Where’s Robin?”

  As though her mentioning him summoned him, he came out of the barn, saw her, and raced over. “Angela! Come on! You gotta come see what Uncle Thorne brought us. The biggest tortoise you’ll ever see. You can even ride it.”

  With a squeal, she rushed off, following Robin. The lad had moved in with them, become part of their family. His love of animals astounded her.

  “Where did Thorne get a tortoise?” Fanny asked.

  “I don’t know. The Galapagos or somewhere. Robin can tell you all about it. We have quite a menagerie out behind the barn. We’ve added an ostrich since you were here. Robin is insisting we need to have a giraffe, but I don’t know about that. You should go see them, then come to the garden for some tea.”

  As Fanny wandered away, Finn climbed over the fence, dropped to the ground, and took Lavinia into his arms.

  “You smell like horses, hay, and leather,” she said.

  “You love it.”

  Turning in his arms, she wound her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

  “That’s only fair. Because I love you as well.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed her soundly and deeply. She would never tire of this, tire of the way he made her feel appreciated and loved. While she returned his kiss with equal fervor, horses neighed, children squealed with delight in the distance, and their baby moved within her.

  Author’s Note

  My dear reader:

  I hope you enjoyed Finn and Vivi’s story. I will admit I struggled a bit at first with their falling in love so young, with Finn being drawn to Vivi when she was only fifteen. In 1861, the age of consent was thirteen, so I hope his waiting until she was seventeen to kiss her, to declare his feelings, showed his true devotion to her. I made them so young because I’ve always been fascinated by couples who fall in love at an early age and their love endures through all the years that follow. I also wanted them to be young enough that they had no power to wield and were at the mercy of their elders, who thought they knew what was best.

  As for Finn being a horse slaughterer in his youth—it wasn’t a romantic occupation, but it was one that was desperately needed in a city that had millions of horses residing within it. King George III was responsible for seeing the practice licensed. The Horse-World in Victorian London by W. J. Gordon provided much of my insight into this mysterious, yet fascinating, world.

  I am always amazed by the things that draw me in when I’m researching, and how they linger, becoming tiny seeds that find their way into my stories. I look forward to sharing more with you as Ettie Trewlove’s remaining bastards journey toward love.

  Warmest regards,

  Lorraine

  The Duchess in His Bed

  Coming next

  Aiden’s story

  A duke’s young and above-reproach widow decides she wants to toss off the mantle of respectability to pursue wickedness, and who better to serve as her guide than a man who is an authority on vice and pleasure?

  The Duchess in His Bed

  Coming September 2019

  About the Author

  LORRAINE HEATH always dreamed of being a writer. After graduating from the University of Texas, she wrote training manuals, press releases, articles, and computer code, but something was always missing. When she read a romance novel, she not only became hooked on the genre, but quickly realized what her writing lacked: rebels, scoundrels, and rogues. She’s been writing about them ever since. Her work has been recognized with numerous industry awards, including RWA’s prestigious RITA®. Her novels have appeared on the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists.

  Visit Lorraine at www.lorraineheath.com.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  By Lorraine Heath

  The Scoundrel in Her Bed

  When a duke loves a woman

  Beyond Scandal and Desire

  Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses (novella)

  An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

  When the Marquess Falls (novella)

  The Viscount and the Vixen

  The Earl Takes All

  Falling into Bed with a Duke

  The Duke and the Lady in Red

  The Last Wicked Scoundrel (novella)

  Once More, My Darling Rogue

  When the Duke Was Wicked

  Deck the Halls with Love (novella)

  Lord of Wicked Intentions

  Lord of Temptation

  She Tempts the Duke

  Waking up with the Duke

  Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman

  Passions of a Wicked Earl

  Midnight Pleasur
es with a Scoundrel

  Surrender to the Devil

  Between the Devil and Desire

  In Bed with the Devil

  Just Wicked Enough

  A Duke of Her Own

  Promise Me Forever

  A Matter of Temptation

  As an Earl Desires

  An Invitation to Seduction

  Love with a Scandalous Lord

  To Marry an Heiress

  The Outlaw and the Lady

  Never Marry a Cowboy

  Never Love a Cowboy

  A Rogue in Texas

  Texas Splendor

  Texas Glory

  Texas Destiny

  Always to Remember

  Parting Gifts

  Sweet Lullaby

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  the scoundrel in her bed. Copyright © 2019 by Jan Nowasky. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.

  first edition

  Digital Edition MARCH 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-267603-0

  Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-267605-4

  Cover illustration by Victor Gadino